Broken Rose
by Huette
Summary: An assassination mission. Gone wrong, perhaps? GaaHina. R&R. Thanks.
1. Prologue

So this was the end, wasn't it? An early death had never occurred to her before, perhaps because she had always been sheltered as such. Death seemed like such a foreign thing because, even though her mind had matured from a few years ago, that same childish disbelief of the 'end' still continued to carry with her. Few people at even her age were able to comprehend the meaning of 'death'. What was it, really? It was some sort of conclusion to life. Shinobi were trained to not fear what it meant to die. After all, they were warriors of their village; they were sacrifices and they were proud of it. No one really understood what it really meant to be a shinobi of Konohagakure in the beginning. In the Academy it had been strictly glory and jutsus, the occasional spar and the frequent written tests. You couldn't be taught many things. Instead, you had to learn them through experience. Not everyone was meant to be a shinobi after all. Those who feared what it meant to die could never become successful in the protection of their village. Those who couldn't bring themselves to let others die would not be able to either. Emotions had absolutely no use and meant to be abandoned. Blood was expected to be shed. Murders were meant to be committed. What else were shinobi, anyway? They were tools for the village; human weapons. This was the textbook description and it was the one that many lived by—including her father.

It was such a harsh definition and in this moment where she lay in the sand that would no doubtfully crush her into merely organs, blood and a mess of bones, she now understood what it really meant. Hinata also could comprehend why everyone had said she wasn't meant to be a shinobi. It was true—it was so _true_. Missions ended with failure because she had hesitated to finish off an enemy shinobi; complications were made because she hadn't been able to carry out her duty. However, she had always expected that through hard work she could get better. Her eyes were opening now. She hadn't ever been meant to become "that" type of shinobi.

As a shinobi, she had certainly always been a failure. In fact, she still was a failure. Determination or not, perhaps there were some things that simply weren't meant to be. The only reason she had not feared death before was not because she understood her purpose fully; it was because she didn't understand the meaning at all. It was her own foolishness that shielded her from many things. While being the heir of the Hyuuga clan gave her many responsibilities and hardships, it also created chances of leniency. This was undeniable. She had had many more chances than any other person had had. This was simply just another one of them.

But there was realization in this moment. Did anything matter anymore? There was no fear in her eyes—perhaps disappointment, yes, but she wasn't scared. Death was the worse thing she could receive right now and each path she could think of led down the same road. Dying had always been in her future since the day she was born; it would simply just occur faster. The sand continued to cover her body, crawling inch by inch and enveloping her even more. While before it had been simply a thin layer, now she could start to feel the sinking weight of it all. Just from the sheer mass of it she could feel her lungs struggling harder to receive oxygen and the dull ache from the rest of her muscles seemed to reach a peak and a stand still. Perhaps the circulation had been cut off or perhaps her body simply didn't care anymore. The broken arm did not throb anymore and she could feel the grainy sand enter a few of the wounds that she had on her body. It began to sting but the feeling eventually dulled in a few seconds. She wasn't petrified anymore—she simply just could not move. The blood loss continued to affect her head and the shinobi who was inches away from killing her was all she could manage to focus on now. His appearance appeared to her in a slight blur and his stony features were too detailed for her to make out. She could only actually make out the distinction between the pale color of his face, his hair and his strikingly colored eyes. Her eyes widened in their strain before relaxing to their normal sizes. In her whole career as a shinobi, this was probably as close as she could get to become a great one. While she had not been able to stop the destruction that happened here, the death, the blood, she had been able to, just for a little while, create an opportunity for others to flee to some form of safety. Even if she had only been able to do it in such a crude way as using her own body as a distraction, it had worked. _Something_ she had done had worked.

To keep herself from blacking out she continued to struggle to make out his facial expressions. Crudely, she assumed that he was keeping a straight expression. Was he still angry, she wondered, or was he feeling a sense of satisfaction that now he held her very life and existence in his grasp? Now it occurred to her that he might have had the right to feel distaste towards her. How many promises had she made? She could remember the unspoken ones she had made but was that really all? Had her attempts to be kind caused more harm than good? Maybe her compassion had been unwanted, causing false hope or some forgotten memory to resurface. What had he felt, she wondered, when he had first seen her enter the cell he had resided in? She had been so nervous and frightened that she had barely been able to say anything at all. Her nerves had been skittish and the ominous look that he had held on his face just caused her frantic nature to show even more. There had been distaste on his part and there had been fear from hers. Gradually she had learned to not judge and had tentatively reached out towards him. Why towards him? The answer still eluded her but maybe it was because she had seen him at the Chuunin Exam. He had been at the peak of his power then and the sand had been horribly menacing. He was someone to be frightened of and as she compared this image to the one of him as he lay in his cell, it was almost identical. Even caged an aura of raw surging _energy_ surrounded him. Even with the chakra limiter she had felt something there. It wasn't like anything she had felt before—it had been much more _sinister_, even without using her Byakugan to see it. But there was also something else and it was _that_ that had made her really think. Because no one could really be a 'monster', no matter what he or she had done. There would always be a human part even if it were hidden in the shadows of something else. Always.

The sand continued to go around her and she felt it creeping up her neck. She attempted to intake a breath but found it difficult to. She felt the odd sensation at the back of her head and she did not need eyes to know that she was fully enveloped, save for her face. The only liberty she had now was to speak and to see and even her sight was wavering back and forth. She stopped breathing in the uneasy anticipation of it all. Hinata stared back at him, waiting for the sudden pressure to harden around her and then for nothingness. One second past and another and another and yet nothing was happening. Her death hadn't come; she was still very much alive. She couldn't make out his expression and as a result did not know what to expect. No one spoke and there was only silence. It was uncomfortable and her breath relaxed. Confusion etched itself onto her pale face and her eyes widened momentarily. She had been ready for that split moment of pain before she became a bloody heap on the ground. She had already become accustomed to the seemingly obvious fact that he hated her and wanted her dead. So why was he…?

"Gaara-san…" she began softly, the pain of her body coming back to her. With most of her senses blocked, her only luxury was her speech. "Why do you hesitate?" If she had been the source of anger for this rampage, she had already been prepared to give him her life to feel at ease—because that was the only thing she would have been able to do for him.

Hinata couldn't form a logical opinion for what happened next. She could hear the air slicing but couldn't quite comprehend what it was. The only movement she could catch was the person who held her prisoner's and her sight cleared as he saw his sudden movement. Instinctively she winced, waiting for the pressure, but soon she discovered that the action had been because of the strange sound she had heard just moments earlier. She didn't even see a figure approach and when the boy fell towards the ground, it left her dazed and puzzled to why he had done that. Squeezing her eyes together to try to gather her thoughts, she blinked them open quickly, finally able to survey the scene clearly.

"Gaara-san?!" It came out as a shout and as a subconscious reaction. Even when he had been poised to kill her, her indulgent compassion pulled through once again. Though she could not see his figure anymore from her position she could tell there was a confrontation from the resounding footsteps that caused the ground to tremble at impact. She vaguely heard shouts but her common sense was already scattered. She saw his figure rise once again and after a while his gaze landed on hers once again. She felt some strange relief that he was alright, something that a shinobi should not feel towards, effectively, an _enemy_ who seemed to be bent on destroying the village. It had been naïve, but the girl had thought that if it was her death that would end his bloodlust, he would escape after he had done away with her and, perhaps, find some _happiness_ somewhere else. Even now as she remembered the wreckage and the screaming and the murder, she did not want him to die. She did not want him to return to the prison like that again.

How foolish.

The sand hardened from the shell it created and as it did, it fell to the ground at her sides. Her body instinctively took this chance to clear her lungs and she coughed violently, the sudden ability to breathe easily once again causing her chest to shudder up and down as she took each breath. She ignored the pain that came from her rib and gave another cough. She brought a hand to her mouth and, with wide eyes, realized that driblets of blood were coming out and littering her palm. She gave a groan, her temple throbbing as she lay flat on her back, the sky now the only image she saw. Though there was plenty of noise as the shinobi surrounding the area attempted to give chase as the prisoner escaped, Hinata could not hear a sound. The only thing was a pulsing ringing that pierced her. She attempted to sit up but as she pressed one hand to the ground, Hinata gave a sharp cry as she realized that that was the arm she had broken. She brought it up to her quickly, cradling it with her good hand. Blood sprayed onto her jacket, the gashes on her arm flowing now that they did not have the pressure of the sand to keep them sealed. Her eyes squinted shut, detecting the voice of her father as he gave orders. Of course he would be here—he was one of Konoha's finest shinobi. She curled her unbroken leg towards her, shame filling her as she got a better view of the wreckage and a few corpses that would be impossible to identify. There would be families who would never be able to find their son, daughter or parent's body.

All this because of her—because of her own foolish promises and ideals. Because she had hurt him.

Using her good leg and her one good arm, she pushed herself up to her feet but promptly fell over immediately back towards the ground. Again she tried and this time she managed to stay on her feet, the broken leg uselessly dragging behind her. Hinata attempted to put pressure on it but fell down once again to the rubble, skinning her palm in the process.

_'I have to find him. Before they do._


	2. Hospital

The streets of Konohagakure were not filled with its usual vigorous life but rather a much more subdued vivacity. Luckily not all of the citizens of the great village had been subjected to the sight of such horror, of such destruction. It had also been fortunate that only a section of the village had been damaged. However, still the protected areas had become almost deserted as most of the residents huddled in their houses or busied as they tried to plan how to reconstruct the fallen structures. Most of the buildings had been left unharmed as a result of the shinobi forces being able to prevent the detrimental force from moving in that direction. In the places that had been exposed to the brutal battle, however, it was blatantly obvious to see the distress and mayhem that had been there just about a mere eight days earlier from the fallen structures and the scarcity of life that could be felt. Even though it had been the surrounding area of the Konoha prison, it been an avenue where the simple citizens could enjoy the fruits of their labor and relax. Now there was nothing but death hanging in the bitter air. The devastation that lingered through the forms of dried blood caused most everybody to deter away from the area in a sorry attempt to try to wipe the incident from his or her memories. Most of all, however, it seemed like the air was still thick with the dust that had been kicked up by the large amount of sand that had gleefully caused havoc to spread. It was almost as if the cause of all the disorder was still there, lurking, watching with cold eyes.

Even many of the adult shinobi attempted to not return to the area unless commanded to and even then there was heavy bouts of reluctance shown. No one, young or old, wanted to be reminded of the battle that they had been unable to prevent. No one had wanted to be reminded that the cause of this had ultimately _escaped_. It was a shame to the name of the shinobi of Konoha and it left distaste in all their hearts. No one who killed their own citizens in their very own walls would be forgiven or allowed to escape and _live_. It would be a disgrace and that very thing had happened that handful of days ago. That the very source of the violence had been able to get out _unharmed_ caused many to grind their teeth with confusion on how one person could escape the grasps of such an influential and powerful village. The older shinobi of the village who were able to remember the destruction of the Kyuubi shook their heads with dismay. There had been many vows to never let such a thing to happen again on the faithful day that the great Kyuubi had been released, had slaughtered a great deal of the population and then barely sealed by one brave man. For those silent pacts to be broken was enough to cause the hardening and even _fear_ in the minds of many. There was finger pointing as the obvious question was asked: Who was to blame? Fingers were pointed as the council attempted to push the blame onto someone else. But in reality they all knew—knew that the situation was incorrigible. And thus the impaired sight of the space caused no one to approach it as silence and ill memories continued to eat the sorry atmosphere.

The only place that was truly brimming with life was, ironically, the Konoha hospital. Medic nin busied themselves to the point of exhaustion as they worked to save the few that had witnessed the terrible spectacle and had narrowly managed to walk away alive. Not only patients and employees were in the building but families as well. Individuals and groups huddled in waiting rooms, their heads bowed down and their hands together in silent prayer for their loved ones to pull through or for the chance at finding one of their relations. There were many 'missing' inhabitants of Konoha and the relatives of these people remained in hopes of perhaps miraculously finding their loved one _alive_. There had been barely any whole bodies recovered; most had been either unrecognizable or they were simply limbs and dismembered flesh. Saying that someone was 'missing' was a polite official term of the label 'dead'. While some people remained with a hopeful glint in their eyes, others buried their faces in their palms and wept as they became aware of the reality of their situations. Where there could be a bittersweet reunion there could also be the risk of learning a devastating truth.

Most of the people would go home heartbroken and despondent. Happy endings were not for everybody and it seemed just now that many were realizing that.

Hinata sat alone in a hospital bed in a private room, propped up against two large white pillows. Clad in a hospital gown, large and small bandages littered her cheek, her arms, her torso, her back, her fingers and her legs. Her dark long hair had been pulled into a loose ponytail for easier management. She soberly looked at her sorry state, the fingers on her right hand twitching as she exercised them subconsciously. In the Hyuuga clan's case there had been luck; the successor of the clan had not been killed in those sudden moments. After all, for a member of the Main house to die in such circumstances would be a huge loss in reputation. While she had been beaten and given several injuries, Hinata had been far from critical condition and had been treated swiftly and effectively. All of the treatment had been done while she had been unconscious and it seemed the medic nin of Konoha had lived up to their reputation; after all, Tsunade was considered one of the greatest medic nin in all of the villages. When she had awakened from her unconscious state three days after initially being brought to the sickbay, she had been in great pain as only the serious wounds had been treated with ninjutsu.

An ordinary doctor, who had stitched up the gashes and bandaged her up neatly, had cared for the rest. Her broken left arm had been laid into a sling and while it had been treated with the chakra of a skilled medic nin, it would take time to heal. Her broken leg had been more serious and the girl knew the cause had been her recklessness in the situation, as she had attempted to stand up on it. A medic nin had taken care to reset the limb carefully and use chakra to heal the bone tissue. However, it would still be awhile (though quicker than if no chakra had been used at all) before she would be completely healed.

Hinata winced as she lay, forced to lie on a half-healed wound. Her chest gently heaved up and down, a dulling agony filling her each time she did so. It was as if anything she did would cause her discomfort. Her body felt heavy, almost numbed and while there was pain, it was something that had been vaguely put in the back of her mind. _'It hurts a lot.'_ Her right hand slowly came up as she fought against gravity, fingers shaking as they tentatively touched her neck as she remembered the potent chokehold that she had been subjected to. The slightest pressure made it blatantly obvious that the skin on her throat had been badly abused and even without seeing herself in a mirror she could infer that her pale skin was probably liberally littered with light purple bruises. As she lay in the bed, her head tilted upwards towards the ceiling, she closed her eyes as she attempted to get away from the soreness and stinging that her body felt. A passing thought had entered her mind as she considered the thought that it all had been some sort of twisted nightmare.

But that was silly. No dream could give her these wounds. Besides, it wasn't her place to deny that the suffering she had seen had not happened. To pretend that something like that hadn't occurred would be foolish, naïve—two things that she knew she did not want to be. With a struggle she stopped allowing herself to be bolstered by the pillows and with much effort she was able to sit on her own. Her white eyes gleamed with a spark of determination. What she had tried to do before stopped still hung clearly in her memory and using that as a springboard, she tried to shift her legs to the side of the mattress. A loud impatient knock rung through the room and Hinata's eyes widened with guilt momentarily before she continued stubbornly, though with less rigor. The severe looking nurse who had been attending her steadfastly for her entire stay forcefully opened the door and narrowed her eyes as she stalked through the doorway towards the young patient. She promptly grabbed the crutch that was propped against the far corner of the wall, her fixed reproving glare never leaving Hinata's figure.

"I told you yesterday to wait for me before you attempt to stand up or I wouldn't allow you to leave your room." she said shrilly, her tone clipped and exasperated. Hinata looked back with a deeply apologetic look before she averted her gaze helplessly. The woman's eyes softened and she dropped the crutch on the unoccupied part of the bed, slowly helping the young girl get a firm balance on her left leg, the right being broken. Her leg trembled as she threatened to spill over, her right hand gripping the light blue shirt of the nurse like a timid child's so she would not fall. Using her free arm the woman retrieved the crutch and firmly placed it. Hinata flinched from the soreness she felt, the cause the object that had been snuggly put against her. In spite of this she gave a small beaming smile.

"Thank you." Hinata whispered gratefully, earning a humph from the middle-aged woman. "You've been in too much of a hurry to get back on your feet." the nurse scolded as she helped the Hyuuga girl slowly work her way towards the door. "That's all you've been asking about. Really, I shouldn't be allowing you to get on your feet. You should be resting in bed. The nin of our hospital may be able to do wonders but you shouldn't push yourself to the limits. There's only so much we can do to help speed up the healing process."

Hinata did not comment as she continued to listen to the woman's constant chattering, her eyes focused on the floor as she continued to inch forward with great difficulty. Ignoring the protests from her body, she continued to move with the smallest of actions, her brow dripping with sweat at the difficulty. As she finally reached half the distance to the door her eyes brightened, her optimism lighting up her bruised face. "Please," she ventured, her right hand trembling with excitement because of the small accomplishment, "Can you open the door?" Her expression fell as she was given an abrupt refusal. "I'm sorry, Hyuuga-san, but I can't allow that." the nurse responded immediately, moving to the girl's other side to help her shuffle back to the bed. "But—" Hinata began to protest before she was abruptly cut off. "You've been in the hospital for only eight days and yet here you are on your feet. I have to say that I admire your determination but as a responsible adult who is in charge of your well-being, this is as far as I can let you move. I can get in trouble for letting you move this much, you know."

Hinata's eyes lowered, clearly ashamed, and allowed herself to be led back towards the bed. She was helped back to a sitting position, the sudden pressure that her wounds were exposed to now not affecting her in the slightest. "I'm sorry. It's just I need to…" Hinata looked back up but didn't bother to finish the sentence. There would be no point.

The nurse put away the crutch and moved towards the door, pausing as she opened it. "It's truly a miracle that you were able to survive the…the incident with only those injuries, Hyuuga-san. If you keep pushing yourself, you are simply going to cause the healing process to take longer. You should relax; be grateful." and with that she shut the door firmly with a lofty click.

Hinata dully stared at the spot where the woman had just stood at, her right fingers slipping towards her tender, bruised neck. The woman's words had not been comforting as they were meant to be. Had it been a miracle? He had looked at her with such disdain, such willingness to kill. Her eyes closed slowly as she remembered his piercing eyes. He had wanted to kill her so why hadn't he?

She had been fully expecting to die. She remembered the choking feeling and the helplessness of dangling through the air only suspended by the sand. She remembered the feeling as the substance slid over her body until nothing was visible but her face. She remembered his outstretched hand that could have clenched quickly at a mere sudden whim. The hand went to her brow, putting pressure on her temples as her head throbbed. "It hurts so much even to just walk to the door." she murmured, disparaging herself. Her tired eyes opened and flickered towards the window, a view of the hospital courtyard able to be seen from where she lay. Her hand fell gently back to her side, frustrated by her lack of mobility. "It's been already eight days. I need to…" Her eyes shot back to the crutch that had tauntingly been placed near her bed and for several hours she simply stared at it, temptation welling inside her.

_'I shouldn't but…I need to. If I don't then everything I said…'_ Finally a weary hand instinctively reached towards it and she slowly pulled herself up. Her face twisted in the shot of pain but she continued, staggering and almost falling down as she attempted and succeeded (barely) to support herself with the crutch. Through the obvious agony her face showed a slight smile forced its way out. It was if this was the only way she could assure to herself that _he_ was still alive; that there was still a chance to correct whatever mistake she had made. That was the optimism she clung onto now.

It was around twilight and this would be the best time to attempt to make her way outside. Her wounds were being perturbed but if she went cautiously she knew she could prevent them from reopening. Managing to turn the knob, Hinata made her way to the hallway with ridiculous sluggish movements. Determination the only thing willing her to go forward, she continued at a uniformed pace. The halls were empty save for one young nurse who looked at her quizzically before hurrying down her way. The medics probably all were tending to those who were more injured than her and though this was currently a benefit to her 'goal', she felt a twinge of guilt for using this opportunity to do something that she shouldn't have been doing.

But still…this held more importance to her than that.

After much effort and sweat she was able to lurch herself out of the small door to the hospital's courtyard. Giving a small cry of relief and ecstasy, she breathed in the clear air that was so much different than the stuffy atmosphere of the hospital. She hobbled towards the bench and heavily collapsed on it, her shoulders scrunching together as her body complained about the sudden harsh motion. Fatigue reaching her, she panted hard. Her heartbeat was erratic and slowly began to calm down as her movement ceased. While no doubt someone would figure out she was gone and come to collect her, she felt content even in the harsh pain that was the consequence of her reckless actions. _'I…I did it. I walked.'_ She weakly grinned, her features paling and the arm free from a cast shaking as the agony became more evident to her senses. But that didn't matter because in this effort it gave her assurance that he had escaped. Even though he had practically almost killed her Hinata still held concern. Perhaps she was crazy because of it. _'I did it.'_

At least there was some satisfaction.


End file.
